Fences

While in the nightly hours...

Sparkles
of the vinous,
musky moonlight
spill o’er
the urns
of the skies,
speckle
the nooks
and crannies
of the night,
cling
to the fences
of my senses,
and my sleepy eyes.

©

2023

Hosny Salah - Pixabay

A rumble of terror
on the horizon,

A fluttering of fear
in the air,

A foreboding,
looming
sense of doom,

A dread of loss
of what never was,

A colossal outburst
of molten rage,

A drumbeat
of faith and fear
at war,

A shuffling retreat
of peace
in defeat,

 

A crackling meltdown
of hope
in its own embers,

 

A littering of life
gasping for death
under the debris.

A year dies out
smothered
in its own ashes.

©